Harry Potter and the Orange Alien
by Elaienar
Summary: There are plenty of things Harry Potter has experience in dealing with. Dark Lords are one, and so are Death Eaters, Dementors, and homicidal tea-sets. Hyper inter-dimensional travellers in orange jackets, however, are NOT. Pre-epilogue.
1. Contact Is Established

Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue, everybody's happy.

Note: If you're interested, the prequel to this story (entitled _Oops, Wrong World_) is filed in the Naruto category and can be found at my profile.

* * *

**.**

**.  
**

**Harry Potter and the Orange Alie****n**

**Chapter One: In Which Contact with Extraterrestrials Is Established**

**.**

**.**

In all twenty-nine years of his life, Harry Potter had experienced few things as unpleasant as the Friday night shift at Auror headquarters. The Cruciatus Curse was comparable, and the three nights spent anxiously awaiting the arrivals of James, Albus, and little Lily, respectively, had come very close, but _nothing_ could equal it.

It was not that the Auror headquarters were particularly uncomfortable; as a matter of fact, they were positively cozy. Harry didn't remember who had suggested asking Mrs. Weasley for help designing the new building (the old one had been totaled in an unfortunate accident involving what Luna insisted was a Heliopath but which Harry suspected was one of George's pranks gone spectacularly wrong), but it had been a good idea. The result of her work was that Aurors were often visibly reluctant to leave the comfort of headquarters for their own homes.

(And Mr. Weasley's contribution, an invention based on Muggle telephones – christened "the fellytone" and nicknamed "the felly" – had made communicating with off-duty Aurors or patrolling members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement much easier than it ever had been before. As Mr. Weasley had pointed out, you couldn't carry on conversations with Patronuses, and charmed mirrors were tricky to use in a crisis.)

No, that wasn't the problem. The problem with Friday night shifts at Auror headquarters was that it meant eight hours of boredom, broken only by prank calls (an unpleasant but unavoidable result of the felly) and long minutes spent placating hysterical old ladies convinced that they had seen Death Eaters hiding behind hedges or peeping in windows, when everyone knew that there hadn't been a Death Eater in England since they'd chased out the last of the Lestrange connections five years before.

Perhaps the boredom would have been bearable if it hadn't been for the fact that there _were_ dangerous things out there – somewhere. After all, the only reason there was such a thing as a Friday night shift at headquarters was because, after that scare about the Dark wizard with a pack of pet Dementors in Surrey, _someone_ in some Board of something-or-the-other had insisted on having an Auror on duty at headquarters all times.

Of course the herd of Dementors had never showed up, and there hadn't been so much as a smidgen of a hint of a Dark anything since then, but when Harry had gone to the Minister about it, Shacklebolt had given him a long look and a longer speech.

Most of it had gone straight over his head, but in the end he'd figured out that the Minister was saying that they needed to placate the more nervous wizards, and since they didn't have anything better to do, they might as well spend eight hours every two days being bored out of their minds. Even if it was so boring that most of the Aurors spent the entire time playing solitare.

It was so boring, in fact, that when young Thomas Abbott called on the felly, semi-hysterical and almost incoherent, to report that there was a rip in the dimensional fabric near his apartment on the corner of Baker and Eighth, Harry's first thought was that he had finally gone mad from boredom.

His second thought, when Abbott went on to tell Harry that he'd put up the wards and Muggle-repellent around the rent just like The Handbook said, was that either he was dreaming or (despite the fact that the young Auror-in-training was a teetotaler) Abbott was drunk.

He only began to believe that it was really happening when Abbott finished by saying that some kind of alien had come through the rip and attacked him when he went to talk to it, and he'd Petrified it for the time being, but was there anything else he should do, and did Mr. Potter think he should take it to the Ministry or to the Auror headquarters, and if he did take it to the Ministry, did aliens fall under Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures or International Magical Cooperation?

(Well, Abbott probably wasn't lying to him _intentionally_, but he was probably drunk, and the alien was probably either an innocent bystander or another drunk.)

"Er," said Harry. "What kind of alien, Abbott?"

"W-well, it's humanoid," said Abbott, nervously, "and I thought it w-was a wizard at first, b-but it's got whiskers like a rat or something and its head is all spiky and weird and it's wearing this really strange outfit – or it m-might be skin – and it doesn't speak English and it's b-been throwing things at me. And it d-doesn't have a wand, I checked, b-but it's been doing magic."

Wandless magic. _Whiskers_. Harry was fairly sure that neither innocent bystanders nor drunks had "whiskers like a rat or something".

"Er," he said, stalling while he tried to remember who would be on duty late Friday night – or early Saturday morning – in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Stanley Engel, probably – they always put the newbies on the late-night shifts there. He tried, unsuccessfully, to picture young Stanley dealing competently with a humanoid alien capable of performing wandless magic, and then tried to convince himself that it was only his lack of imagination preventing him from doing so, and not the fact that Stanley was a blithering idiot who never would have made it into the Ministry if his father hadn't spent a small fortune lining pockets.

"Mr P-potter?"

"I'll, er, call the Ministry," said Harry, "and ask them what their policy is on aliens. Just a moment."

He pressed a button on the small switchboard on his desk to put Abbott on hold, and then flipped the switch that connected his felly to a smaller one in the Minister's office. He wasn't quite sure if Shacklebolt would be at the Ministry at one-thirty in the morning, so it was a relief when there was a click and Shacklebolt's gravelly voice floated over the reciever.

"Shacklebolt here."

"This is Potter. Er," said Harry, trying to think how to say what he wanted to without sounding insane or drunk. (_Abbott found an alien and wants to know..._ no. _Suppose an alien came flying out of a hole in the sky.._. no. _You won't believe me, but... _no, definitely not.)

"Well," he said, "I was wondering if the Ministry has a strict policy regarding aliens. Sir."

There was a long pause, and then Shacklebolt said, a shade too jovially. "The Ministry's policy with aliens is to throw them back where they came from and hope they stay there. And maybe to lay off the Firewhiskey while on duty. Anything else?"

"No, sir," said Harry. "Thanks." He switched back to Abbott's line and said, "The Minister says to throw it back in."

Abbott stuttered a bit and then finally managed to get out a "yes, sir". Once he had turned off his felly, Harry leaned back and absently lined up the pros and cons of going to see a psychiatrist on his next full day off.

He was on his twentieth con ("I'm pretty sure Rita Skeeter is still out there somewhere") when the fellytone began beeping again. When he picked it up, Abbott's squeaky, panicked voice nearly deafened him; it was a moment before he realized that the young man was saying that he couldn't get the alien back through the rent.

"You can't?" said Harry, feeling a spark of interest igniting.

"N-no, sir," stuttered Abbott. "I t-tried b-but it's not w-working at all, s-sir. Wh-what should I d-do?"

"We-ell," said Harry slowly, "I suppose you'd better bring him here."

There was a squeak that might have been the beginning of a "yes, sir" but before it could take shape Abbott had broken off and was shouting in the muffled way that Harry knew meant he wasn't holding the felly to his mouth anymore.

"N-no, miss," shouted Abbott, "d-don't do that, he's fine, just a bit under the – NO, _don't do that_! Look ou—"

The sound cut off.

Harry stared at the silent felly and began counting. It was, he knew, the right thing to do. Dumbledore would have done it, and it would have been one of the things he'd have done for the right reason. Abbott would actually be a very good Auror if he ever learned to have some confidence in himself, and he would never gain that confidence if he had someone Apparating to his aid every time there was a problem. Besides, it was probably just a Muggle getting too inquisitive about the whiskered alien. Probably.

He made it all the way to fifty-nine before he decided that Abbott would have to build character on somebody else's watch. He pulled his wand out, and a millisecond later Abbott Apparated into the room with a loud pop, staggering sideways as he appeared, tripping over the lower half of the bulky object that he had one arm wrapped around and nearly falling.

It took Harry a moment to see that the thing Abbott was holding was roughly the size of a small human, and another to realize that the reason he hadn't identified it as a person at first was because it was completely enveloped in thick ropes.

"Report, Abbott," he said, stowing away his wand surreptitiously.

"Y-yes, sir," stammered Abbott, straightening. "A Muggle w-woman approached the alien as I was using the felly. I m-managed to Obliviate her and send her away, b-but the alien got free of the B-body-Bind Curse as I d-did, and I w-was forced to use Incarcerous and a Stunning Spell on him. Th-that's all, sir."

"Very good, Abbott," said Harry, and was pleased to see Abbott relax at the words. "Now, er...."

The bundle of ropes twitched in Abbott's grasp and made a noise halfway between a moan and a growl. Abbott started nervously and nearly fell over again.

"I S-stunned him right b-before I Apparated, s-sir," he said, recovering himself. "I th-think he may have some kind of immunity t-to m-magic."

"Right," said Harry. "Well, let's sit him down and get the ropes off his head before he smothers, then."

Between the two of them they managed to bundle the captive (who was now squirming in an uncertain kind of way) into Harry's chair. The moment they let go of the mass of ropes, it jackknifed and landed on the floor with a thump and a muffled shout.

"Definitely some kind of immunity," said Harry, with a sigh. "Either that or he's got skin as thick as a giant's. Well, at least he doesn't seem to be immune to the ropes. Good thinking, Abbott. Let's see ... why don't you try lifting him into the chair with a Hover Charm, and I'll conjure more ropes to keep him there."

This was accomplished with little difficulty, despite the fact that the prisoner squirmed and wriggled without stopping the entire time. Once he was secured to the chair, he stopped moving, but continued to mutter loudly through the ropes. This reminded Harry that Abbott had said that the alien didn't speak English.

"Right," he said, again. "Why don't you get some of those ropes off – just the head, mind – while I go and see if we've got a translation charm somewhere around here. I know we had one a few months ago...."

He found the translation charm – a pendant that would have looked disturbingly girly if it hadn't been for the mystical runes etched into the lavender beads – in a desk further back in the room. Halfway back to the front of the room, his ears were suddenly assailed by a loud, boyish voice raised angrily. Harry couldn't understand what he was saying (it definitely wasn't English, but he couldn't place it – Chinese, maybe, he thought) but it sounded like profanity.

The boy (a young boy, he noted) wasn't shouting any more when he reached the desk, but he was growling what Harry was very sure were death threats at Abbott, who was standing several feet away from the chair pointing his wand at its occupant.

"Wand away, Abbott," said Harry, coming to a stop where he could see the boy's face. "If he was able to get out of the ropes, I think he'd have done it by now."

"Yes, s-sir," said Abbott. His hand fell to his side, but he didn't put it away.

Good enough, thought Harry, and looked down at the boy.

By his voice, he was young – eleven or twelve, Harry hazarded – and his face (vaguely Asian, but not enough for him to be more than half-Chinese or whatever he was) would have matched if there hadn't been an elusive _something_ about it that made him seem older. Perhaps he was simply an exceptionally mature eleven-year-old? Not likely, given the yelling and death threats. Fourteen, maybe. And now that he was closer to him and not distracted by anything else, there was something off about him, something that was bothering Harry, but something he couldn't quite pinpoint....

Perhaps it was simply his appearance. The whiskers Abbott had reported were not really "whiskers like a rat"; they were three thin, dark lines on either cheek. Harry would have thought they were tattoos if he hadn't been able to see that the dark lines were raised slightly above the rest of the skin, like scars.

The boy had a head of hair so spiky and yellow – really yellow, not blonde – that Harry thought at first that it had to be a wig, but if it was, it was fitted onto his head so that it was impossible to tell where the wig ended and the real skin began. _And_ the boy's eyebrows were the same yellow as his hair. They were drawn down in a scowl now, half-covered by a metal plate affixed to a strip of cloth which was wrapped around his forehead and tied in the back. (There was a marking on the center of the metal plate which Harry thought for a moment might be a rune, but if it was, it was one he'd never seen.)

And Abbott had been right: there was something strange and (for lack of a more fitting word) alien about the boy. Odd features aside, he was hard to look at. Not hard to _see_ – he wasn't fuzzy or blurred around the edges, it was simply that the whole time Harry had been looking at him, he had been filled with an irrational desire to squint or take off his glasses and wipe them. And if he didn't pay attention, his eyes slid away or unfocused so that he was staring through or above and slightly to the right of the boy instead of _at_ him.

It was decidedly unsettling.

The boy had stopped speaking while Harry looked at him, but after a moment he squirmed and shot off a volley of syllables (not Chinese, either, thought Harry) that sounded like another death threat.

"Right," said Harry, yet again. He dropped the pendant over the head of the boy, who began squawking indignantly, hunching up his shoulders and shaking his head wildly, and then tapped the largest stone with his wand. "Activate."

"—_go_, and next time anyone points a stick at me I'm gonna take it and shove it up their!" finished the boy.

Harry blinked. "It comes with a profanity filter? That's a new one."

Abbott shuffled away from the boy nervously.

"Hey!" said the boy, indignant again. "If you knew how to talk, how come you kept on jabbering nonsense before?"

"Er," said Harry. It occurred to him that it was usually the captors who asked the questions, not the captives, but it also occurred to him that the kid hadn't done anything (that they knew of) except fall out of a space-time rift and resist arrest. And he didn't _look_ as if he was bent on mayhem or murder or world domination, despite the garish hair and whiskers. For all they knew, he was a perfectly innocent alien child who had stumbled on the rip by accident and attacked Abbott because he didn't know what was going on.

"That pendant is a translation charm," he told the boy. "I don't know how to speak your language, the charm just re-routes your brain so that you hear and say everything in my language instead of yours. And it might not last long," he added, remembering Abbott's suspicion of some kind of immunity.

The boy gave him a squint-eyed look that said _I have no idea what you just said_ a lot more clearly than his noncommittal grunt did. "Then lemme go already. I need to get back to training!"

Harry revised his opinion. The kid was ten, maybe twelve, but definitely not older, and certainly not mature for his age. There wasn't a hint of guile about him, and there was no way he had been intelligent enough to open an inter-dimensional portal. Maybe it wasn't even an inter-dimensional portal, just a doorway to the other side of the world, and he would just have to find out where the kid lived and set up a Portkey, and then he could finish his shift in peace and go back home to bed....

"Mr. Potter," said Abbott, urgently, "Mr. Potter, we can't just let him go. He blew up Baker Street, he's not safe!"

"He did _what_?" said Harry.

Abbott paled, but the boy's annoyed expression didn't change. "The first one was an accident," he said, "'cause I fell over when everything went all weird and I'd been practicing. And the rest wouldn't've hit if _he_" with a jerk of the head in Abbott's direction "hadn't dodged. And he started it, anyway."

"You were resisting arrest!" protested Abbott.

"I haven't done anything to get arrested for!" retorted the captive, loudly, and then added in an undertone: "Though maybe the old man has...."

"Now look here," began Abbott.

"_Stop_," interrupted Harry.

Abbott broke off mid-sentence, and the boy scowled and muttered something the charm didn't translate under his breath.

"Let's have this from the beginning ," said Harry, firmly. "You first." He pointed at the boy, but not with his wand. "Hold on a bit."

He flicked his wand, and the ropes around the boy disappeared. The garish orange outfit the kid was wearing made Harry want to squint more than ever, but it didn't surprise him at all, somehow. Although he did wonder why it was so lumpy, and why the boy was wearing sandals in the middle of winter. _And_ why he had a black pouch strapped to his thigh.

Abbott looked nervous and clenched his wand tighter, but Harry put his away. "Blowing up a street isn't anything I haven't done in my time, you know." Well, sort of. "Er, Abbott, did you put wards around the damaged areas?"

The gasp and the loud crack Abbott made as he Disapparated were answer enough.

"Right then," said Harry. He went across the aisle to the other desk, pulled the chair there over to his desk, and sat down it in, slightly disconcerted to find that the kid had vanished the minute his back was turned.

Harry could still feel his presence. The kid was practically radioactive. Harry had been around plenty of heavily-bespelled Dark artifacts, and they all had a heavy, tingling _something_ emanating from them, somewhere between a smell at the back of his throat and a blur of color behind his eyelids when he blinked. He was getting the same sort of feeling from the kid, only less weighty, more confused – and the only hint of Darkness was a faint, red-blooded hunger buried deep underneath everything else. We'll, he'd seen worse.

Aloud Harry said, "There seems to have been a grave misunderstanding, and I'm afraid my friend has done you an injustice. Why don't we start again – and would you like some tea?"

After a moment the kid crawled out from under Harry's desk. "Tea is for geezers," he grumbled. (Harry hadn't known that it was possible for someone to grumble in a shout.) Then he held out a handful of writhing gray dust. "And what is this? It just tried to eat my foot!"

Harry blinked. "It's a dust bunny, I think," he said. "We try to keep them out but it's next to impossible."

"Huh," said the kid. He dropped the squirming dust bunny, clambered onto Harry's desk, and began kicking his heels against it. "If you try to tie me up again I'll kill you," he offered.

But he'd rarely seen worse manners. "As I said, it was a mistake. So, uh, let's start with introductions. I'm Harry Potter," he said, and then, since that seemed very little information, he added: "I'm an Auror in the London division. What's your name?"

"Naruto Uzumaki," said the kid, "gehneen, leaf." He jerked a thumb at the metal plate on his forehead. (Now that Harry thought about it, the symbol engraved on it could have been a highly stylized leaf. Of course, it could also have been a funny sort of whirlpool, or a squashed heart, or a puddle of water, or a sideways-upside-down flame.) "What's an Auror?" Naruto added.

"Er," said Harry, who had never met anyone over the age of three who needed the word "Auror" explained to them. This kid really _was_ an alien – or, okay, maybe he was just from the other side of the world. "We're sort of a special police force. We work against Dark witches and wizards to keep people safe."

Naruto brightened, his interest clearly sparked. "Cool! So you're like anboo? Where's your mask?" And then, in the same breath: "What're witches and wizards?"

This time Harry simply stared, feeling the gears in his head lock up. The boy looked young, sure, and maybe they got their letters later in the Orient than they did in England, okay, but he had been performing _wandless magic_ – and yes, children who didn't know what they were could use magic wandlessly, on accident, but usually streets didn't get blown up when they did. Even James' first demonstration of his magical inclination had merely filled the bath-tub with holes.

(He would never understand why all three of his children hated bathing. Even good little Al squirmed like an eel and cried when they tried to wash his hair.)

There simply was no way that someone of Naruto's age and apparent magical prowess could _not_ know what a wizard was. Harry wondered wildly if he had been set up by his enemies in the Ministry – maybe the boy was a ploy to make him look stupid (Well, he already _felt_ stupid. And Death Eaters would never send an operative in wearing that shade of orange.) and undermine the Aurors' respect. Or perhaps he was a spy.

A spy wearing bright orange.

_Right._ So, an alien, then.

"Er," said Harry. "Well, a wizard is someone who can use magic."

_That_ should straighten things out.

But instead of looking as if light had dawned on the dark morass of interplanetary communication, Naruto appeared to think that this explanation was no explanation at all, and had merely added a layer of mist to the dark and the swamp. "What's magic?" he asked.

**.**

**.  
**

* * *

**A/N:** So, my first attempt at a Naruto/Harry Potter crossover, which I don't know why I haven't done before, because it's _fun_. On that note, I should like to mention three authors here on FFnet, to whom I am indebted for inspiration and motivation for this story. **Marz1**, who wrote the first crossover I ever read (_Invert_, Harry Potter/Fullmetal Alchemist) and has written many other crossovers, all exciting and interesting. Every time I read one of her stories, it makes me want to write one like it. Also, **opalish**, who is a Harry Potter genius; my portrayal of an older Harry Potter was almost certainly inspired by hers in _Scorpius Malfoy and the Improbable Plot_, although of course mine isn't as good. And third, **Reidluver**, who was the first person to see the draft for this story and has been amazingly supportive and encouraging. Her HP/N crossover, _Naruto and the Goblet of Fire_, was what made me write this. I came away from it thinking "That was so amazing! I've got to get in on this crossover thing! Now what if...." Hence the story. All three of these authors are amazing and wonderful et cetera, and if you haven't read their stuff you should go do it right now.

The next chapter is fully written but will need to be edited before it is posted. Hopefully that won't take long.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Friday, January 30:** Edited for various reasons.


	2. Communications Are Disrupted

Disclaimer: See previous chapter. :D

* * *

**.**

**.  
**

**Harry Potter and the Orange Alien **

**Chapter Two: In Which Communications are Disrupted**

**.**

**.  
**

It was definitely a plot of some kind. An evil one, maybe. Or perhaps, Harry thought hopefully, he was dreaming. He was not _really_ sitting in Auror headquarters explaining the basics of the magical world to an alien child in an orange outfit.

"Magic," he told Naruto, "is an energy that certain people can manipulate through the use of wands." He held his own wand up for the kid to look at, and pretended not to notice the dagger that suddenly appeared in Naruto's hand. "Wizards – like me and Abbott – can use magic for everyday things like cooking and cleaning, or in battles."

"So it's like chakra?"

"What's chakra?" asked Harry.

Naruto looked flummoxed. "You know, _chakra_," he said, evidently hoping that this would make his meaning clearer. When Harry continued to stare blankly at him, he waved his arms around some. "You know, it sorta swirls around inside you and you pull it out to use techniques! Aren't you a shinobi like the other guy?"

"Abbott?"

"Yeah, him," said Naruto. "He used some kinda technique to keep me from moving and tie me up."

"Oh," said Harry. He pondered this for a moment. "Well, it looks like when you say 'chakra' and I say 'magic' we're talking about the same thing – but then why isn't it translated?" Naruto shrugged, and Harry went on. "So your word for 'wizard' is 'shinobi'?"

The boy gave him a horrified look. "Shinobi don't wear dresses!"

"They're _robes_," said Harry. "Er – anyway, can you tell me where you came from and how you got here? If you can then we should be able to send you back."

"Well, we were still in Fire Country," said Naruto, "I think, anyway, and I went off to train and then all of a sudden there was just a sorta dark spot right in front of me, and I couldn't stop fast enough, and then it went all dark and I accidentally blew up the ground. And that other guy came up and started yelling and tried to grab me so I told him to back off and then we fought a bit and he hit me with something so I couldn't move. And then," said Naruto, with growing indignation, "some old hag came up and poked me so I got up and then he tied me up and when he untied me we were here, and I'm really hungry from all of that, do you have any ramen?"

"Er, no," said Harry, and then, as the boy's face fell, he added, "But when my shift here ends I can go and get you some. If any of the stores are open this late."

Naruto lit up like a beacon. "All right! Thanks, mister, you're great! I haven't had any ramen since –"

_Crack!_

"Uwaagh!" said Naruto, leaping off the desk and over Harry's head so fast that all Harry saw was a blur of orange and yellow streaking through the air to land beside him, where it became Naruto again. The kid had landed on his feet, legs bent and arms extended in some kind of fighting stance, and his hands were full of small, black spikes.

"Hey!" said Abbott, in an indignant squeak.

The young Auror-in-training had Apparated about a foot to the left of Naruto's head, near the wall the side of Harry's desk was shoved against. Harry had no idea what Naruto had done – or how he'd done it so fast – but Abbott was now spread-eagled against the wall, apparently held there by the sleeves of his robe.

Beside Harry, Naruto relaxed and then did a little victory dance. "_Yeah!_ That'll teach you to sneak up on me!"

"Er, Naruto," said Harry, "what have you done to Abbott?"

"Pinned him to the wall with shuriken," explained Naruto cheerfully, holding out his hand to show Harry the spiky, vaguely star-shaped things he was holding between his fingers. "My aim's gotten a _lot_ better since I graduated."

"Oh," said Harry. "_Accio_ Naruto's shuriken." He ducked as more of the stars pulled themselves out of Abbott's robes and the wall and came flying back toward them, and Naruto caught them out of the air and stuffed them into a pouch strapped to his leg, looking unconscionably smug.

Abbott staggered as he fell away from the wall and then regained his balance, rubbing his arms gingerly and casting a nervous glance at Naruto. "I p-put up the wards, sir."

"Thank you, Abbott," said Harry, standing up. "You've been a lot of help tonight." Which he had. Sort of. "My shift ends in – about ten minutes, actually, so I'm going to take Naruto home with me and tomorrow we'll see what we can do about sending him back through the rift."

"Won't that b-be an inconvenience, sir?" stuttered Abbott, not looking at Harry, but over his shoulder. "If you l-like, I could...."

"Oh no, that's fine," said Harry quickly. "Actually, Ginny's out of town with the kids, so it won't be any trouble at all. I'm sure you're tired, but would you mind firecalling—" his mind raced through a list of competent Aurors who weren't out of town on summer vacation "—Creevey, and asking him to keep an eye on the rift? Tell him I'll relieve him in the morning once I've got some sleep, and call me if he can't make it for some reason. And then go home and get some rest yourself. It's a good thing you found that rift – things could have been bad if you hadn't."

Being tactful and reassuring always made Harry feel silly, but it appeared to have worked, for Abbott looked gratified as he Disapparated. And he hadn't asked why Harry wasn't alerting the Ministry, either, which was good, because Harry might have had a hard time answering. He didn't _think_ they had foot-tall stacks of forms to fill out in case of an encounter with an extraterrestrial, but he wasn't going to risk it.

Besides, it was hardly necessary. They'd just pop Naruto right back through the rift in a day or so, just as soon as they'd made sure that it wouldn't kill him or land him in a war zone or spit him out in space or anything horrible like that. He turned back to where Naruto had been standing, and discovered that the boy had disappeared again.

"Naruto?" he said.

"Up here!"

The boy's voice came from above. Harry craned his neck to look at the ceiling and caught sight of Naruto, who was somehow clinging to it with his feet and one hand while he inspected the air vent.

"Er, Naruto...."

Naruto let go of the ceiling, twisted in mid-air, landed lightly on his feet in the aisle between desks, and bounced back over to Harry. "Oy," he said. "How can yurt talking bunny men?"

Or at least that's what Harry thought he said; it came out rather garbled. On second thought, it could also have been "How come you're talking funny again," which, given the situation and Naruto's apparent immunity to spells, was much more likely. Harry sighed again.

"The translation charm isn't working," he said, pointing to the pendant and then drawing his finger across his throat and shrugging to make his meaning clear. (As clear as it was going to get when neither of them could speak the other's language, anyway.)

"Korcharenkffffzt?" asked Naruto.

"You might as well take it off," said Harry, with appropriate gestures, "and I'll try and mend it."

Naruto pulled the pendant off and handed it to Harry, who tapped it with his wand and muttered "_Reparo_" before handing it back and motioning for the kid to put it on again.

"Nannizzzzrduccan?" said Naruto, once he'd got it on again.

"Oh well," said Harry. "It was worth a try. Go ahead and take it off again." When Naruto had given it back and Harry had stuffed it into the pocket of his robes, he added, "In just a bit we'll go out and get some ramen, okay?"

"Ramen!" repeated Naruto, with great enthusiasm.

The boy spent the rest of the ten minutes left of Harry's shift bouncing off the walls (well, running up and down them, anyway) and shouting "ramenramenramenramenramenRAMENramen" while Harry searched for Muggle money in his desk and tried to remember how to get to the nearest twenty-four-hour convenience store.

With two minutes to go, he pulled off his cumbersome robes and stuffed them into a drawer. Naruto came down from the ceiling to express his approval of the Muggle clothes he'd been wearing underneath by flashing him a huge grin and a thumbs-up; Harry tried not to look pained, and then dug the translation charm out of the pocket of his robes and put it into the pocket of his jeans, just in case.

A minute before the end of Harry's shift, Neville Longbottom stumbled sleepily out of the fireplace. Naruto yelled and jumped again when the green flames roared to life behind him, but this time he didn't throw anything. Instead, he explained to Harry, with many gestures and a lot of unintelligible shouting, that he was getting really fed up with people sneaking up behind him, and that if they did it again, he'd get serious. Harry repressed a smile.

"Harry," said Neville, staring blearily at Naruto, "what's going on?"

"Er," said Harry. "Well, this is Naruto Uzu... Uzumaki, I think, and he's an alien or something. He fell out of an inter-dimensional rift Abbott – you know, Thomas, Hannah's nephew—"

"Fifth cousin," corrected Neville. "I think."

"Well, he found a rift where Baker and Eighth intercept, and apparently Naruto fell out of it and blew a few things up," said Harry, "so Abbott brought him in here, but it was apparently an accident – the blowing things up, I mean – so I'm taking him home with me so I can get some sleep—" he felt vaguely that there was an oxymoron somewhere in there, but ploughed stolidly on "—and then we'll just send him back through tomorrow, I suppose. Naruto, this is Neville Longbottom."

Naruto looked up from where he was crouching by the fireplace examining the flames and extended what could have been a greeting in a loud, friendly voice.

"Nice to meet you," said Neville, cautiously. "Er, Harry...."

"I had Abbott call Dennis and ask him to keep an eye on the rift," Harry told him. Neville looked relieved. "Anyway, Naruto's hungry, so I guess we'd better go. I'll see you later, Neville. Come on, Naruto, ramen."

"RAMEN," yelped Naruto, and followed Harry out onto the street like a large, tailless puppy in a hideous orange jumper. Harry wondered briefly if alien mothers didn't tell their children not to follow strange men who offered them ramen, but upon reflection he decided that anyone who tried anything with Naruto – especially if that anything involved not delivering upon a promise of ramen – would probably end up full of shuriken, so perhaps it wasn't a problem.

They made it to the convenience store without incident, except for the first time a car passed them, at which time Naruto yelled and jumped about five feet into the air. After that Harry made sure that one of them was talking the entire time. He mostly told Naruto the names of things and complained about Ministry policies, while Naruto, when he spoke (which was often), seemed to be relating his life history. Harry wasn't sure about that, because Naruto's gestures were wide and most of them could have meant anything. After interpreting one flurried series as either "I'm strong and I have a pointy hat that keeps me warm" or "I punch guys who have umbrellas, isn't that funny," he mostly gave up trying to understand.

By the time they reached the store, Naruto had learned "stop", "eat", "good", and "no". Harry had learned that, apparently, people with eyes made Naruto angry. Either that or people with curly eyelashes; he wasn't sure about the meaning of the animated hand-waving bit in the middle. It might have had something to do with a girl going somewhere, but after a while Harry remembered that Naruto spoke a different language, in which Sharon probably wasn't a girl's name.

In the store Harry learned that Naruto had evidently never learned what "don't touch" meant. He said it to him, several times, with accompanying gestures, and finally, in desperation, put a gallon of milk he didn't really need into each of the kid's hands and gesticulated wildly to impress on him the importance of not letting go.

The clerk on duty apparently found this very amusing. He was less amused when Harry and Naruto got to the counter and it took two minutes of hastily improvised sign language to tell Naruto to put the milk on the belt, and then, when it started moving, to convince him that stabbing it would be a bad idea.

On the way from the store to his house, Harry taught Naruto "not and "now" in quick succession when the boy tried to open one of the small containers and eat the ramen uncooked. He wasn't quite sure what it was Naruto responded with, but he suspected that it was profane.

"Where did you learn all that bad language?" he demanded, as they turned onto his street. "_I_ can't swear for three minutes straight, and I'm almost twenty years older than you. But perhaps it wasn't straight swearing. Here we are – this is my house. Watch out for the roses, they're carnivorous. I don't think Neville meant for that to happen, but – did you just call me a vindictive old coot?"

Naruto looked shifty.

"I thought so," said Harry, tapping the lock with his wand. "It's a amazing what you can understand from tones and expressions. That's funny," he added, as he led Naruto down the hall to the kitchen, "I thought I turned the lights off. Sometimes I think that – hey, aren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

Well, that explained the lights, anyway. Ron and Hermione Weasley were seated at the kitchen table (_his _kitchen table, in _his_ kitchen) playing some kind of card game (with _his_ cards). As Harry entered the room, Ron looked up from his hand and grinned, and Hermione leapt out of her seat and ran across the room to hug him.

"Harry! How have you been?"

"Er," said Harry, trying awkwardly to hug back with a bag in either hand and Naruto yanking on his sleeve and shouting in his ear. And waving a dagger at Hermione in an inquiring sort of way.

_Oh dear. _

"Just a minute – these are my friends, Naruto," he explained hastily. "They're good people, _good_, Naruto. You can put the dagger away – yeah, they're good. No, not good to _eat_, more like, er, just good. Hermione—?"

His friend took pity on him and relieved him of the bags. "Who's this?" she asked.

"His name's Naruto," explained Harry, "and he fell out of an space-time warp or something and so I brought him home until we can send him back. There's milk in one of those bags, could you...."

"Why aren't you using a translation charm?" asked Hermione, tossing the bag with ramen onto the counter (Naruto eyed it with a predatory gleam in his eyes) and then putting the milk into the refrigerator.

"We did," explained Harry, "but it stopped working. He's got some kind of immunity to magic, apparently. He's an alien."

There was a brief silence.

The Ron said, cautiously, "Did you say 'alien'?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "You know Thomas Abbott, Hannah's fifteenth cousin or something—"

"Fifth," corrected Hermione.

"Well, he's in training, and he rang up the felly earlier to report a rip in the space-time continuum, and then he brought Naruto in, and since there's no protocol for what to do with – what is it, Naruto?"

"Eat ramen _now_, Harry," said Naruto, miming scooping food into his mouth with both hands.

"Aliens eat ramen?" asked Ron.

"This one does, apparently," said Harry. "All right, Naruto. Only I'm not quite sure what to do, and I suppose we could just toss him back into it, but that seems ... I don't know." He peeled back the cover of one of the ramen cups and directed a stream of water into it. "And I'm too tired to think. Come sit down, Naruto."

Harry set a fork and the ramen on the table and tapped the side of the cup with his wand. Much to Naruto's delight, steam instantly began rising from it in thick clouds. The kid began chattering loudly, demonstrating with expansive gestures his appreciation of the speed at which the ramen had been prepared. He only stopped when Harry pushed him in the direction of the chair, at which time he said something that might have been "thank you" or something about eating moss, and then began gulping down the ramen without waiting for it to cool.

"Wow," said Ron.

"Don't aliens have forks?" asked Hermione.

"I guess not," said Harry, sliding into the chair across from Naruto. "I'm going to crash just as soon as Naruto's done eating. Are you staying overnight? And what happened to touring France?"

Ron shrugged. "Sure, thanks, France got boring. Where're Ginny and the kids?"

"Aunt somebody-or-the-other's," said Harry. "She'll be back tomorrow evening, I think. You two can have the bed, then, and I'll take the couch, and Naruto can have James' bed. Did you bring Rose and Hugh?"

"They're asleep in the nursery," Hermione told him.

"That's all right, then," said Harry. It occurred to him that he was hungry, so he waved his wand vaguely and muttered "_Accio_ ramen."

The flying packages would have hit his head if Hermione hadn't caught them with a quick spell and waved them onto the table. "You shouldn't be up this late," she said disapprovingly.

"I did take a nap earlier," argued Harry. "And somebody's got to do it. Stupid new policies." He reached for the nearest cup, but Hermione slapped his hand away and started preparing it herself. "Thanks," he said. "Could you do another..." He glanced at Naruto, who was slurping up the last of his ramen. "Another three for Naruto, please?"

The boy looked up at the sound of his name, and grinned when he saw Hermione preparing more ramen. He rattled off a quick sentence in which the words "ramen" and "Harry" were distinguishable, and then reached across the table to pat Harry on the shoulder. "Ramen good, shinobi good," he said. "Harry good shinobi!"

"Yeah," agreed Harry, reaching for the fork. "A good shinobi. That's me."

Six cups of ramen later, Naruto had sated his hunger and was trying to get Hermione to show him how to heat ramen, while Ron watched benignly and Harry dozed on the table. He had asked, with much hand-waving and finger-wriggling, if she used some kind of fire to heat it (unless he had been asking if she tickled it to a boil) and Hermione was trying to explain about stimulating the molecules to create heat.

It was a difficult task enough without language, and the fact that Naruto apparently did not know that molecules existed did not make it any easier.

When several minutes of animated discussion had not made things any clearer to Naruto, Hermione conjured a pencil and paper from somewhere and began drawing diagrams. These must have made more sense to him than her gestures had, for after squinting at them for a minute he made an oh-I-get-it kind of sound. He filled a cup of ramen with water, balanced it on his right hand with his left hand hovering over it, and scowled at it furiously.

After a moment the cup exploded.

"All right," said Harry, when he had cleaned his glasses and wiped the ramen off of his face, "I think it's time for bed. Hey, Naruto." The boy looked up from the ruins of the cup, frowning. "Time to sleep," said Harry, with appropriate gestures. "C'mon."

He just wanted to shove Naruto into James' bedroom and collapse on the couch, but on reflection he showed Naruto where the toilet was (and was extremely relieved to find that he would not have to explain how to use it) and pulled some extra blankets from a closet, two of which he gave Naruto. He showed Naruto to James' room, gestured towards the bed wearily, flipped the light on and off and on again, and nodded and smiled at Naruto's enthusiastic comments.

_Then_ he flopped onto the couch. He barely had time to remove his glasses before he was asleep.

**.**

**.**

**

* * *

A/N:** Speaking of sleep, I think I need some. I started trying to spell things funny near the end – for example, "spell" is not spelled "sleep", and "alseep" is not really a word. Neither is "papper", apparently. So, er, if you notice something and you have time, mention it in a review and I'll be eternally grateful when it comes time to edit this and fix all the mistakes.

Thanks for the reviews!

**

* * *

Note on the translation charm**

_Hinote Snidget asked (and I'm very glad the question came up): Shouldn't the translation charm work the other way around as well (from English to Japanese)?_

Alas, no. I wasn't able to get this into the story, but strictly speaking, the translation charm doesn't _actually_ translate Japanese into English. You know how in order to speak (in layman's terms, because I don't know the scientific garble), you start the thought in one part of the brain, and it then goes to another to be put into words? The charm "translates" by interrupting this process before the second step and turning the disembodied thought into thought embodied in English. It then controls the wearer's organs of speech so that, even if the wearer has never spoken English before in his life, the words come out pronounced perfectly. A similar process renders English spoken to the wearer back into wordless thought.

The biggest disadvantage to this is that if there's no _exact_ English equivalent to something the wearer needs to say, it's simply left in the wearer's native language. (An approximate equivalent - such as "throwing stars" for "shuriken" - just doesn't cut it.) Thus ANBU, chakra, shinobi, shuriken, jutsu and genin remained untranslated, because there was no English word for any of those things (although chakra and magic are closely related). Similarly, the words magic, wizards, witches, and Auror reached Naruto's brain unchanged because his world has none of these.

Hopefully this answers your question and doesn't seem too unlikely.

(And yes, it was the Rasengan. Good eye!)


	3. Nothing Much Happens

Disclaimer: See first chapter. :D

* * *

**.**

**.  
**

**Harry Potter and the Orange Alien**

**Chapter Three: In Which Nothing Much Happens**

**.**

**.  
**

Harry awoke to the sound of screaming.

It took a moment for his befuddled mind to process what he was hearing. When it did, he jerked upright, groping for his wand and his glasses, and then promptly fell off the couch as darkness obscured his vision.

When he could see again (albeit not well, and upside-down), he found that the screaming was delighted rather than frightened, and was coming for a fuzzy sort of blob which he rather thought was Hugh Weasley. The toddler was suspended in mid-air, attached at either end to a pair of orange blobs, which were swinging him back and forth enthusiastically.

_Er_, thought Harry. He righted himself, located his glasses, and got them on in time to see the three blobs reform into one Hugh and two Narutos (_two Narutos_?) who promptly let go of Hugh's arms and legs, sending him flying across the room to be caught by a third Naruto.

"Er," said Harry, helplessly.

The two Narutos by the door to the hall waved and shouted "Harry!" and then all three of them trotted over to the couch. One of them held a squirming, giggling Hugh out towards him by one ankles; Harry deflected a kick to the face, righted the toddler (who shouted "Hugh _flied!_" in his ear by way of greeting) and then, looking helplessly at the three grinning boys in front of him, said, "Were there three of you last night, Naruto?"

Two of the Narutos brought their hands together at the level of their chins and then disappeared in identical explosions of smoke. The remaining Naruto announced: "Kahgehboonsheen," and then beamed down at Harry, as if this cryptic message explained everything.

"Right," said Harry. His stomach chose that moment to growl, and he noticed two things: first that he was very hungry; second, that he could smell bacon. "Is that breakfast?" he asked.

Naruto grinned and held up a hand. "Bacon," he said, ticking off points on his fingers, "eggs, totes. I have eat."

"I think you mean 'toast' and 'eaten'," said Harry, blinking. "Who's been teaching you English?"

"Her-my-nonee," Naruto told him, "is very good teach...er." He paused, and then, apparently all out of English, started waving and talking in his own language again. At the top of his voice. Harry wondered, briefly, if it were possible that he actually could not speak quietly, or if it was just another example of the kind of vibrant personality that thinks wearing bright orange is a good idea. (He was inclined to believe that it was the latter.)

"Well, you're picking it up fast," said Harry. He got up, tucking Hugh under his arm, and set off for the kitchen. Halfway there he was overtaken by Naruto, who sped past on the wall (the _wall?_) and flipped through the doorway.

The kitchen presented a very domestic scene. Ron was idly waving his wand at the sink, were several dishes were washing themselves, and Hermione was seated at the table with Rose, scribbling on papers with one hand and dabbing at her daughter's face with a rag with the other. Rose had somehow managed to smear scrambled eggs all over her face and was submitting stoically to Hermione's half-hearted attempts to clean her.

As for Naruto, he had come to rest perched on the counter by the stove, and was chatting animatedly (and not in English) to Ron, with much waving of hands and, Harry noted, many sidelong glances at the pantry where the remainder of the ramen had been put away. He was completely ignoring the plates piled high with eggs and toast and bacon. Harry was not ignoring them. He was fairly sure they were calling to him.

"Ron," he said. "Hot potato."

He tossed Hugh into the air. Ron made a sound midway between a gurgle and a scream and dove forward, catching his delighted son about a foot away from the floor. The dishes he had been washing fell into the sink and, from the sound of them, smashed into a thousand pieces.

"Really," said Hermione severely, without looking up. "Do you have to do that every time, Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry unrepentantly. "It gets boring otherwise."

"Some day I'm going to have a heart attack," growled Ron, standing up, "and then you'll—"

"Be sorry, I know," grinned Harry, wandering over to the stove. "Don't I always warn you beforehand? I'm not really trying to kill you, you know."

"I think he might actually be telling the truth," said Hermione. "_No_, Naruto." This to the orange menace, who had snuck over to the pantry while Rona and Harry were distracted. "You can't have ramen for breakfast," Hermione told him.

At this, Naruto released an impassioned flood of words in his own language, flinging his arms about energetically to explain (if Harry read him correctly) that he wanted ramen _now_, to _eat_, that a breakfast of eggs and toast and bacon was unfit for the lowest of the low, that ramen beat toast hollow, and that, moreover, Hermione was a cruel and hideous fiend send straight from the fiery depths of Hell to torment him.

"Very _bad_ Hermynonee!" he added.

"Be that as it may," said Hermione, unmoved, "but you still can't have any ramen until it's time for lunch."

The boy shook a fist at her and turned away, muttering darkly under his breath. He retrieved Hugh from Ron and exited the room, grasping the child by one elbow and the seat of his pants.

"If that kid ever held a baby in his life before now," said Harry, "I'll eat Ginny's Easter hat."

Ron shuddered. "Think of your stomach, mate. That thing would give a _giant_ indigestion."

Harry grinned and began loading a plate with food. "Aren't you afraid he'll break him?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione, primly. "D'you think I'd be sitting here if there was any danger?"

"Hear, hear," said Ron. "D'you know what happened earlier? About two hours ago the kid wandered in here just when Hugh was finishing his breakfast, and so of course Hugh threw himself at him and latched onto his leg and started yelling for attention. So," he continued, with obvious relish, "after a bit Naruto shook him off and challenged him to a duel."

"A _what?_"

"A duel," grinned Ron. "So they wrestled up and down the hall for half an hour and when they came back in for Naruto's breakfast Hugh didn't have a mark on him. I don't think Naruto even let him hit his head against the wall or anything."

"Huh," said Harry, and flopped into the chair across from Hermione. "Morning, Rosie."

Rose raised soulful eyes from her plate. "Naruto's _orange_," she told him.

"He sure is," agreed Harry.

"I have a orange hat," Rose explained, solemnly.

"I bet it goes well with your hair," said Harry.

"Hey!" protested Ron.

"I've been talking with Naruto," interjected Hermione, giving Rose a final wipe and then shooing her off her chair and towards the door, "and you're right about him not being from Earth. Look at this."

She pushed a large sheet of paper towards him. On closer inspection, it proved to be six sheets of paper neatly charmed together, on which someone had drawn, very badly, what was either a very large amoeba or a very small continent. Squiggly lines divided it into a few large sections and several smaller ones, and here and there were sloppy things that looked like Chinese runes and little symbols, and beside them Hermione's small, neat script. Harry recognized the stylized leaf from the metal plate on Naruto's forehead. Since his mouth was full, he pointed at it and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"That's Naruto's city," Hermione told him. "He called it 'koh-noh-hah' – and I _think_ he said that's not where it is, really. I mean, it's in the right country, but he's not allowed to say where exactly it is."

Harry swallowed. "He said he was a leaf before, when the charm was working," he offered.

"Yeah," said Ron, "he asked us the word for 'leaf' when he drew it, and then the words for 'town' and 'hiding', and then he told us it was 'Hiding Leaf Town'. Weird name for a place."

"Well, I guess that confirms the alien theory," said Harry.

"Actually," said Hermione, with the air of someone getting something off their chest, "I don't think he's from another planet. I think he's from another dimension."

"Same thing, innit?" said Ron.

Hermione looked exasperated. "No, it's not. Theoretically – since we've never had any actual occurrences of contact – people from different worlds might look different, but they'd still be basically the same, because they'd have to function within the same basic parameters that we do. People from different dimensions – again, pure theory – could look the same as we do, but they'd be completely different, since in their dimension the most basic of rules we have here might not exist. So–"

"Magic," said Harry. "Theirs is different. I think it's _inside_ of them – and their wizards can't be the same thing as ours, because the pendant didn't translate Naruto's word for them. He called them 'snow-bees' or something."

"Shinobi," corrected Hermione. "And there is a difference, yes—"

"Shinobi don't wear dresses," said Harry. "According to Naruto."

Ron stifled a laugh, and Hermione shot him an annoyed look.

"I think shinobi are _soldiers_," she said. "Have you seen the things Naruto carries around with him? But that's not what I was going to say. The point is, that because Naruto's most likely not even from this dimension—"

Harry honestly tried to listen, but by the second sentence Hermione was using phrases like "electromagnetic pulse" and "ambient energy", and he could feel his eyes glazing over. He stared dumbly at her until she stopped talking, and then said, a little helplessly, "Oh, ah. And that's bad, is it?"

"What she's saying," said Ron, taking pity on him, "is that the reason spells don't work on Naruto is because the magic inside him pushes our magic away. And she said it also works like a magic, so all the magic that's sort of lying around waiting to be used is going to move towards him."

"Oh," said Harry, enlightened. "Thanks, mate." He thought for a moment, and then added, "You know our dust bunnies are usually really shy, but one of them tried to eat him. Does that mean magical creatures are drawn to him, too?"

"I hadn't thought about it," admitted Hermione. "Well, they might, but then...."

She trailed off, frowning intently. Harry waited a moment and then said, "So that _is_ bad?"

"Harry! Haven't you been listening to what I was saying?"

"No," answered Harry, truthfully.

"It's very bad," she told him. "Not only will he displace quantities of ambient magic, which will upset the balance of the world and affect the fabric of reality, but he'll create a sphere of really thick magic around himself over a period of time, and that could cause problems for anyone working a spell within that area. It could get very dangerous."

Hermione looked stern. Harry said, "I see," and tried to think of some way to change the subject, but before he could she went on:

"Why didn't you report this to the Ministry, Harry?"

"I did!" said Harry defensively. "I called Shacklebolt as soon as I got the call from Abbott. We needed to know the policy on aliens. Don't look at me like that!"

Hermione raised her other eyebrow. "He thought you were drunk, didn't he?"

"Er," said Harry, "well ... yes, to tell the truth. But I did call him!"

"But he didn't take you seriously," said Hermione, standing up and planting her hands on the table as she leaned across it, "and this is _serious_, Harry. Why?"

"We don't need Ministry officials coming down here," said Harry. "You should know why. I know you can feel it, too."

"Feel—" began Ron, and then halted. "Oh. _That_."

"Of course we can feel it," said Hermione. "It would be hard to miss something that Dark. And that's precisely why—"

"That's precisely why we shouldn't mention this to the Ministry until Naruto's gone," said Harry. "If we tell them, they'll want to send someone down to verify everything we've discovered, and if they come here and feel that, they'll make a huge fuss, and it'll be pointless because we don't know enough about Naruto's magic to be able to do anything about it. The last thing we need is the Ministry breathing down our necks while we try to send Naruto back, just because the kid has some kind of Dark magic twisted up in his inner coils."

Hermione pursed her lips. "It's not safe."

"Well, two of us are Aurors," Harry pointed out, "and the one who isn't could've been if she'd wanted to. Besides, Naruto's a good kid, and he's got it under control, whatever it is. And we'll tell them everything once we've sorted all this out and got him back home."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" muttered Hermione darkly.

"I think we used it a lot back when we were kids," said Ron. "You know. We'd get into the most ridiculous scrapes because we were going to tell them after we'd sorted everything out ourselves.

"Well, this time we're not going to get into any trouble," said Harry, firmly. "We're responsible adults. And we _are_ going to tell them – stop laughing, Hermione!"

After a moment he added, "I suppose I'd better go and have a look at that rift and see about sending Naruto back. It's about time I relieved Dennis, too."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Hermione.

"A plot device, probably," grinned Ron.

"Ha, ha," said Harry, nervously, and went to find Naruto, Ron following close behind.

The sound of giggling led him to James bedroom, where he was a little alarmed to find Hugh tied loosely to a bedpost with the sash from Ginny's bathrobe. Naruto and Rose were sitting on the floor in front of him, discoursing animatedly. At least, Naruto was discoursing, mostly in signs and his own language, supplemented with the occasional word in English; Rose was listening intently, and Harry had no doubt that, had she been able to write, she would have been taking notes.

Ron came to a stop behind Harry and peered over his head into the bedroom. After a short silence, he said, doubtfully, "Is it my imagination, or did Naruto just show Rose how to get bamboo splinters under someone's fingernails?"

"It was a hallucination," muttered Harry. "Don't tell Hermione. Hey, Naruto!"

Naruto looked up and grinned. "Harry! I teach Rose very good—" he mimed something which Harry mentally translated as "Spanish Inquisition", and which made Ron blanch "—and teach Hugh very good shinobi to be."

"Er," said Harry. "That's, uh, very good, but we're going to see about sending you home now."

"Ho-ome?" said Naruto, frowning.

Harry began a series of complicated gestures. Ron dodged his flailing arms and went to untie Hugh, who was burbling happily about being a very good shinobi who never said anything, _never_, not even when tied to bedposts.

Rose looked mildly disappointed, but her face cleared when Ron said, "Right, then, time to go see Mum and Granddad. Tell Naruto goodbye, kids."

"Bye-bye," chorused Rose and Hugh, waving as Ron bore them away, and Naruto broke off in the middle of a sign to wave back and say "Jah!" cheerfully. Then he went back to asking Harry about ballerinas. At least, that's what Harry thought he was doing. After a few more signs it dawned on him that all the twirling and leaping might mean something else.

"Apparation?" he said. "Like this?"

He Apparated to the other side of the room and was rewarded by a lot of enthusiastic nodding and shouting.

"All right," said Harry, "I guess we can Apparate to the rift, but—" he wondered if it would be safe, and could aliens from different dimensions get Splinched, and would spheres of really thick ambient magic cause problems? "—just a minute, let's ask Hermione."

"Hermynonee?" repeated Naruto, following Harry down the hall.

"Yeah, I think she knows everything – Hermione, d'you think we can Apparate? I mean, will it be safe for Naruto to come alongside?"

Hermione looked up from a pile of papers and tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. "You should be able to, but I'd hold on tight if I were you. Why don't you try a little one right here?"

"I guess I'd better," said Harry. "Hey, Naruto."

He showed the boy how to hang on, and then squeezed his hand around Naruto's firmly and repeated "tight" until Naruto caught on and grabbed Harry's arm in a bone-crushing grip.

"Tight," he repeated, grinning.

"Right," said Harry, wincing, and turned on the spot.

The usual sensations accompanying Apparition were joined by a tearing feeling, as if he was being pulled in every direction at once. It only lasted for a split second (during which time the headline "Boy-Who-Lived killed in Splinching accident in kitchen!" flashed before his horrified eyes) and then it was gone, and he and Naruto were coming to a stop on the other side of the kitchen, mercifully un-Splinched.

Naruto staggered a little as they stopped, righted himself, and then let go of Harry's arm so he could wave his hands about while he shouted his approval of this method of transportation. After that he asked Harry to teach him how to do it (or he might have been asking him to teach him ballet, but Harry thought this unlikely).

"No, Naruto," he said, shaking his head. "Not now. We're going to leave as soon as Ron comes back. Are you coming, Hermione?"

"Of course I'm coming," said Hermione. "Goodness knows what you two would get up to without me."

Harry grinned. "Goodness knows," he agreed.

As Hermione began to stack the papers she'd been working with, the kitchen fireplace burst into green flames, and Ron stepped out of them. Beside Harry, Naruto gave an annoyed huff and put away the dagger he'd drawn, muttering darkly.

"All set?" asked Ron. "I think we'd better make it fast, Harry – Mum was looking suspicious. Do you think they'll give us points if we save the day?"

"You should just hope you don't get fired," said Hermione. "It's Baker and Eighth, right, Harry?"

"That's right," said Harry. "Abbott put wards up all over that section of the street, so we don't have to worry about being seen. We're leaving now, Naruto – oh, wait."

He crossed the kitchen to the pantry and retrieved the half-full bag of ramen, to Naruto's delight, and then mimed for the boy to get ready to Apparate again.

Simultaneously, they turned on the spot.

**.**

**.**

**

* * *

A/N:** This took longer to put up because I was so busy experimenting with chocolate frosting and meringue and cheese soufflés without the cheese that I hardly wrote a thing for days. D: Sorry. And the next chapter may take longer, but I'm expecting it to be the last chapter, unless I get me some plot.


	4. A Conclusion is Reached

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

* * *

**.**

**.**

**Harry Potter and the Orange Alien**

**Chapter Four: In Which a Conclusion is Reached**

**.**

**.**

Upon reflection, Harry identified two main differences between his trip across the kitchen and his trip across approximately half of London. The first difference was that the feeling of being pulled through several rubber tubes going in several different directions had escalated into a feeling which he quickly identified as the way one felt while being squeezed through a rubber tube and torn limb from limb simultaneously.

The second difference was that there had been no craters in Harry's kitchen, whereas Baker Street was simply full of them. As they arrived near the intersection, he had a brief glimpse of Ron and Hermione disappearing into one just before he tripped on a chunk of concrete and fell backwards into a particularly large crater of his own. Naruto fell in after him with a panicked yell, and Harry had time to register the sound of Ron and Hermione's voices raised in similar tones before he hit the bottom. Then Naruto landed on top of him, driving the breath out of him and cutting off his reflections abruptly.

After a few moments Harry came back to himself enough to wonder why he had not noticed before what a peculiar sort of terrain Baker Street had.

After another moment, it occurred to him that Abbott had said something about Baker Street being blown up earlier; he simply had not realised that when Abbott had said "blown up", he had really meant BLOWN UP.

Around this time he became aware that Naruto was poking him in the ribs and shouting at him in a concerned sort of way. He tried to say that he was all right, but his words came out sounding like a combination of a pained groan and a death rattle, and seemed to worry the alien more than they assured him. Harry gathered that he was worried because Naruto grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him into a sitting position, and began shaking him violently back and forth, apparently in an attempt to jolt him into health.

Just when Harry was beginning to think that being unconscious sounded like a good idea, the shaking stopped and Ron came into view, looking as if he was not sure whether or not he should laugh.

"Blimey, Harry," he said. "Never thought aliens would be more trouble than You-Know-Who. Did you break anything?"

"Guh," said Harry. He got to his feet, a little unsteadily, and shut his eyes against the glare of the sun, which seemed to be circling around his head. "I'm fine," he said. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."

"You're getting a black eye, too," said Hermione, from the rim of the crater.

"Naruto put his elbow in it," explained Harry. "Am I Splinched?"

"Limbs all present and accounted for," said Ron, cheerfully. "But take a look at the street!"

"I don't think I want to," grumbled Harry, but he scrambled up the side of the crater and looked out anyway.

The crater Harry and Naruto had tumbled into was only a few yards away from the intersection with Eighth, and was one of the first in a cluster of craters that extended almost to the end of the block. It was a very thick cluster: from where Harry was standing to the halfway point between intersections, it was not so much that the street was dotted with craters as it was that the craters were occasionally interrupted by bits of street and sidewalk.

Considering the state of the street, the buildings had got off relatively unscathed. Aside from a few broken windows and marks that Harry thought might have been caused by a Stunning Spell gone awry, the only damage of note was a front door reduced to splinters of plywood and paint, and a large chunk carved off the corner of an apartment building. As for the intersection, there was only one middle-sized crater very nearly in the exact middle of it. A Muggle policeman was directing traffic around it, and Harry noted, with relief, that none of the passers-by were paying any attention at all to the damage just beyond the intersection. Creevey's work, no doubt. And speaking (or thinking, rather) of Creevey, there he was, dodging around craters towards them. And there was Naruto, looking suspicious and pugnacious, and with his hands full of sharp metal objects again.

"No, Naruto," said Harry, waving his arms about. "That's Dennis Creevey. He's good. He's a friend. You don't stab friends. Hullo, Dennis," he added.

"Morning, Harry." Dennis skidded to a stop beside them. "Sorry about that. I should have owled you about all the holes. I patched up the buildings – mostly – and I've been collecting bits of pavement all morning, but I think it was mostly blown to dust. Is this the alien, then?"

"His name's Naruto," said Harry. "Naruto, Dennis. Dennis, Naruto." And then, as Dennis held his hand out to the boy, "_No_, Naruto. You don't poke it, you shake it. Like this."

He demonstrated, and Naruto made an understanding sort of noise and began shaking Dennis' outstretched hand so vigorously that Harry was afraid it would come off. Just as he had decided to step in and rescue the younger Auror, Naruto left off shaking and began to sign something about hopscotch.

"Hold on, Naruto," said Harry, with a negative gesture. "Dennis, what did you—"

"Just a mo', Harry," interrupted Ron. "You didn't say anything about Naruto blowing a block of Baker Street to kingdom come!"

"I didn't know he had," admitted Harry. "Abbott said he blew it up, but I thought he was exaggerating."

"Blimey," said Ron. "Ask him what happened."

Harry retreated into a conference with Naruto, and after a quick exchange of signs that mostly consisted of pointing and raising eyebrows, emerged to report that Naruto said he had been doing something swirly with raisins, and then he'd jumped through the sky and had accidentally blown that hole in the intersection with the swirly thing, and the rest had mostly happened while he was resisting arrest, except for the windows. And, furthermore, Abbott was a mouse, his father was a pig who hadn't had the common decency to marry his mother, and as for his grandparents—

"That's quite enough, thank you," said Hermione, primly. "What did you want to ask Dennis, Harry?"

"Er," said Harry. "Oh, right. How are you keeping them—" with a nod towards the policeman and cars visible at the intersection "—from seeing _this_?"

"There's a pretty heavy Muggle-Repelling Charm over the entire block," said Dennis. "I think Thomas must have put it up, but I've been having to re-cast it every couple of hours because something's making the magic go all wonky. And I firecalled Emma Dobbs just before I came out here – you know she's in the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee now – and she pulled a few strings and got that crater out there put down to an explosion caused by a gas leak. We've got all of the Muggles evacuated, too, but I don't know what we're going to do about them if we can't fix the rip."

"Speaking of the rip," said Harry, "where is it?"

"Right up there."

Dennis pointed to a spot almost directly over Harry's head, and Harry backed up a few steps, teetering on the edge of another crater, and craned his neck to look at it.

They had called it a rip, and that was what it looked like – a jagged, black, tear-shaped tear that showed stark and awful against the grey-blue of the sky; except that he could tell, somehow, that it was not the sky it had torn through but the very fabric of the world, the air rent and ragged just a few feet away. Harry suddenly feared that the frayed edges would peel back, the air rend into pieces and the world disappear into the terrible nothingness beyond it....

"That's not good, is it?" said Ron, suddenly serious. And then: "Hey, don't—"

Harry turned around just in time to see Naruto springing into action. The boy vaulted over Ron's head and leapt – higher than anyone should have been able to leap – over Harry and Dennis, right towards the center of the hole—

—and then passed through it as if it were not even really there, disappearing into a crater with a crash and a yell of outrage.

"I guess Abbott was right about it not working," said Harry.

Naruto appeared on the edge of the crater, red-faced and dirty, and began swearing at the hole loudly. Some of the curses were in English. Harry looked over his shoulder at Ron, who stared back at him with a look of studied innocence on his face.

"Did you—" began Hermione, her tone accusing, and stopped, staring upwards at the rip.

Harry turned and saw Naruto leap away onto the side of a building, where he clung somehow, silent for once, and gazed at the rent with wide eyes. The black color had gone. Now the rent was a medley of green and brown and piercing electric blue, a glimpse of white clouds and blue sky, and a flash of red.

Without giving himself time to think, Harry whirled and drew his wand in the same instant, shouting out the words of a spell, and the concrete road between them and the intersection flowed upwards and froze into a wall just inside the Muggle-Repelling Charm. An instant later Ron and Dennis hit it with strengthening charms, and on top of that Hermione laid a Cushioning Charm so thick Harry could feel it from where he stood.

And not a moment too soon, for the next instant something blurred red and white shot out of the rip, richoted off the Cushioning Charm, and nearly ended up in a crater. The man – for it was a man – skidded to a stop on the very edge of the hole, teetered for a moment, and then steadied himself with a grunt.

There was a brief moment of silence, wherein the rip resumed its black color, and then Naruto dropped to the ground, pointed at the newcomer, and began shouting again.

Harry relaxed. The yelling was loud, accusatory, and apparently on a subject which required vast amounts of profanity to expound properly, but Naruto didn't sound threatened, and the newcomer started yelling back without missing a beat. It sounded to him as if it was something they did fairly often.

By the time he had registered this, Harry was halfway across the distance that separated him from Naruto. Only a few feet were left when the stranger gave a great leap and landed not a foot away from Naruto. He leaned down until their noses were practically touching, and the shouting intensified.

"That his dad, you think?" asked Ron, drawing level with Harry.

"Granddad, more like," said Harry, doubtfully.

Belying his agility, the man's face and hands were lined, and his hair was long and white (and even spikier than Naruto's. Harry had not thought this possible) although his outfit was not quite as garish, being red and grey rather than orange, and having a kind of Oriental look about it. On his forehead, where Naruto wore his city's symbol, the man had a strange kind of helmet with a completely different symbol on it. Aside from the exuberant shouting and the hair, however, Harry couldn't see any family resemblance.

He was just wondering if he should try to get them to stop arguing and start explaining – because apparently the newcomer knew how to make the rip work – when Naruto, apparently thoroughly exasperated, aimed a punch at the old man. That was okay, because the old man blocked easily. Then he sent Naruto flying, which wasn't so okay.

Dennis gave a faint moan of despair as Naruto smashed into a building, sending concrete and wood flying everywhere. "Why didn't they just drop an atom bomb?"

"There, there," said Ron cheerfully, thumping him on the back.

"Hey!" said Harry, reaching out to grab the man.

There were a lot of things he wanted to ask; for example, "Would you please not throw my charge into buildings?" and "Do you know how to make that thing work?" and "Could you please take Naruto home now because I don't think there's enough ramen in London to feed him?" and "How do you make your hair spike like that?" but before Harry had time to organize his thoughts the man turned around, stared down at him for a brief moment, and then said something completely incomprehensible in an inquiring sort of way.

"Er," said Harry, "I don't—"

The man's gaze flickered over his shoulder, and he ignored him, brushing him aside to address the three behind him. At least, Harry thought it was possible that he was addressing all three of them, although his eyes were fixed on Hermione, and his face had suddenly taken on a rather frightening leer.

"Is he saying what I think he's saying?" asked Hermione.

Ron's ears turned pink, and something unfortunate might have happened had not Naruto suddenly reappeared, shaking concrete dust out of his hair. He interrupted the old man's speech to point at Hermione, then at Ron, and then to shake two fingers emphatically under the man's nose, shouting energetically the while. Then he turned to Harry.

"Is Jiraiya," he explained. "Is teacher. Very—" he went through a series of gestures and expressions, which Harry could make neither head nor tail of, and then added something about a chicken. "Very bad Jiraiya – very good teach."

"Teach_er_," said Harry, and was suddenly struck by inspiration. He dug frantically in his pockets, and at last came out with the translation charm he'd put there the night before. "Get him to put this on," he said, demonstrating as he spoke.

Naruto frowned, but he took the charm and turned to Jiraiya with it. A shouting match ensued, but it only lasted for about ten minutes (during which Naruto apparently had to vouch for Harry's character by telling the old man everything that had passed since he had arrived, with frequent mention of ramen, explosions, and ballet) and then he put the charm on, still grumbling loudly.

"—ever pull that again you'll be sorry," he growled, and then appeared to register the fact that he was speaking in a different language. "Woah."

"Excuse me—" began Harry.

"This some kind of technique?" inquired Jiraiya. "I've never heard of anything like this."

"It's a translation charm," said Harry. "Could you—"

"So you're Harry, are you?" said Jiraiya, loudly, bending down until their eyes were level. "My stupid pupil's been telling me about you looking after him."

"Er – well, I was just—"

"Hope he didn't annoy you too much," grinned the old man, straightening. He patted Harry on the head in an affectionate sort of way (Ron snickered, but shut up when Harry glared at him) and then turned to Naruto, who had removed his sandals and was shaking bits of rubble out of them. "Come on, kid, let's go."

"Excuse me!" said Hermione.

Jiraiya turned so quickly that all four of them backed up automatically, but the old man merely leered a little. "Yeah?"

"Before you go," said Hermione, coolly, "I'd like to discuss the rip. Do you think it's a natural occurrence?"

"Guess so," said Jiraiya. "I've never heard of any techniques that open doors into other worlds. When we get back I think I'll slap a couple of seals on it to keep more idiots from falling through."

"Please do," said Hermione. "I was also wondering...."

Around that time was when Harry stopped understanding what they were talking about. He was fairly sure that they were talking about the rip, but at one point Hermione seemed to be explaining the mechanics of the translation charm, and at another she and Jiraiya both got down on her hands and knees and started scratching out mathematical formulae on the sidewalk with lumps of concrete.

Eventually Dennis moved away and began repairing the building Naruto had smashed, but Ron and Harry stayed near, and after a while Naruto put his sandals back on and came over to stand with them, favouring the two with a running commentary in a loud, annoyed voice. Jiraiya would occasionally break off from his conversation with Hermione to say "Shut up, kid," or "Beat it, stupid," but the only result of these commands was that Naruto would make faces and go on a little louder than before.

After more than fifteen minutes Hermione got to her feet, brushed some dust off of her knees, and said, "That's a weight off my mind."

"What is?" asked Harry.

"Honestly," said Hermione. "Weren't you paying any attention?"

"I was until you stopped speaking English."

"We were speaking English the whole time!"

"Not any kind of English we know," said Ron. "Can you give it to us in layman's terms?"

"In layman's terms," said Hermione, "it's quite easy for them to go back. It's just that for the rip to actually go anywhere there has to be a balance of inactive energy and active energy around the rent. Jiraiya has already calculated the amount he needs to generate to get back from here."

She beamed.

Ron stared. "That's it?"

She nodded.

"No rituals?" said Harry. "No bloody sacrifices? Just do some magic and you're good to go?"

"It's not quite that simple," said Hermione, "but yes. That's it."

"But that's _great_," said Harry, relief flooding him as he turned to Jiraiya. "You have no idea – not that I don't mind the excitement, not when it's been so quiet – but I don't think the Ministry would be happy about aliens coming out of nowhere and not being able to go back again."

"Bureaucracies," grunted Jiraiya. "They're the same everywhere. Well, we'll be taking our leave of you. Oy, Naruto."

Naruto said something that sounded uncomplimentary, but when Jiraiya snapped at him in their language he moved over to stand next to him, tugging at the ends of his sleeves and tightening the strap around his leg. Then he straightened. "Jah, Harry," he said. "I have very good – fun, here. Be good."

"Yeah," said Harry, feeling uncommonly sentimental. He stuck out his hand and gripped Naruto's. "Yeah, I had fun too. Well ... bye."

"Bye," repeated Naruto, shaking Harry's arm enthusiastically. "Bye, Hermynonee. Bye, Ron." Then, loudly: "Bye, Dennis!"

Dennis Creevey looked up from his work. "Uh – goodbye, then."

Naruto grinned at the Auror as he pocketed his wand and moved towards them, and then released Harry's aching hand to wave to his teacher: "Bye!"

"Oh no," said Jiraiya, catching hold of the boy by the back of his shirt as he started off towards the rip. "I don't think so. I don't know how you put up with him," he added, "but thanks. And if you ever get bored" (this to Hermione) "come visit and I'll show you a good time."

Ron's ears turned pink again, and he opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off firmly. "Thank you," she said. "But I doubt I'll get bored. I have a feeling this is going to keep us busy for a while."

The old man grinned and pulled the translation charm off, handing it to Harry before engaging Naruto in an animated discussion that ended with Naruto being pulled off his feet and tucked under Jiraiya's arm, despite the boy's loudly-expressed distaste for the arrangement. Then he leapt, landing on the wall Harry had transfigured and sticking there, an improbable sideways figure, while Naruto squirmed and yelled in his grasp. With his free hand he made a swift series of movements, and suddenly the air was filled with a hissing, crackling hum as raw magic – no, chakra, Harry reminded himself – blossomed outwards from his palm.

Then he was in the air again, hand stretched out towards the rip, which had once again become a swirl of colour and light – and they were gone, with a sound like thunder and a blast of wind that nearly knocked Harry off his feet.

And then there was silence.

"Blimey," said Ron, after a moment. "It worked."

"Of course it worked," said Hermione, and turned to Harry. "Now. I believe you mentioned something about 'telling them everything'?"

"Er," said Harry, shuffling his feet and looking shifty. "Do I really have to?"

Hermione gave him a look that made him feel about four years old.

"I was only joking!" he said hastily. "I'm going, I'm going."

"Not by yourself, though," said Dennis.

"'Course not," said Ron. "We're coming too. Right, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. "We're going to be in _so_ much trouble."

An hour later, as he stood in the Minister's office in front of Kingsley's desk, Harry was very glad that they had come. Somehow it was easier to bear the Minister's steady gaze with the three of them at his back.

"And that's what happened, is it?" said Kingsley.

"Yes sir," said Harry.

Kingsley gave him another look and then sighed. "Very well. Wait outside for a few minutes, if you would."

"Well," said Ron, nervously, as they settled into the uncomfortable chairs outside the Minister's office, "he didn't seem too upset. Not upset at all for someone who's just been told that the universe got torn and aliens keep on falling out of the rip." He paused. "D'you think aliens have Dark Lords too?"

"I hope not," muttered Harry. "Once was enough."

"Do you suppose he's writing an official reprimand?" said Hermione, glancing at the door.

"You can't reprimand people for doing their job," said Dennis. "Aurors are supposed to deal with potential threats."

"Yes, but," said Hermione, "well – I suppose there wasn't really anything else to do. Bringing in a dozen committees to deliberate the situation wouldn't have done any good."

"That's the spirit," said Ron.

Ten minutes later, when they were finally called back into Kingsley's office, the prevailing spirit was one of trepidation, more than a little reminiscent of the feeling Harry had experienced just before detention with his least favourite teacher. However, the smile on Kingsley's face made Harry feel slightly less nervous, and when the Minister merely handed him a thick stack of forms and told him to fill them out and turn them in, he felt almost happy. Forms were fine. He could deal with forms. They were annoying, but not—

"You'll need to file them in the Department of Interdimensional Cooperation, in the Records Room," Kingsley was saying. "It's on Level 5, just past the International Magical Office of Law. The door's new. You can't miss it."

Alarm bells went off in Harry's head. "Since when do we have a department of interdimensional whatsit?" he demanded, flipping through the forms.

"Since about five minutes ago, Mr Potter," returned Kingsley, gravely. "I've been hard put to find enough staff to accommodate you on such short notice."

Harry looked up from the forms, vague horror beginning to seep into his brain.

"As it is, we've only got a Department Head and three – possibly four – others. However," said Kingsley, his mouth turning up in a smile that changed vague horror into horrified certainty, "the Department Head should be quite competent. He has more experience in communicating with extradimensional beings than anyone else I know. And his friends are almost equally experienced."

"Oh, no," said Harry.

"Oh, yes," said Kingsley. "You'd better go on and start working on those papers, Department Head Potter. There are ten times as many waiting in your new office."

They filed out of the room in stunned silence. Then, as the door closed behind them, Hermione spoke:

"I _told_ you we'd get in trouble."

**.**

**.**

**The End**

**

* * *

A/N**: Well, that's the last chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! For your reading pleasure, here's a little clip that didn't make it into the story somehow.

**Communication**

Naruto seemed to like drawing. He drew a picture of a platypus wearing a dress and a headless duck sitting on a tree, and indicated that the platypus was likeable, whereas the duck – or perhaps the tree – was the lowest of the low, except on his List of People to Beat Up, where it ranked first. He drew a squiggle and some dots, and then told them that he didn't like squiggles. (He told them by tossing the paper into the air and throwing sharp things at it.) Then he drew a hump-backed porcupine, made hideous faces, and pointed at Hermione's purple robes a lot.

"I don't understand," said Hermione.

"He says his pet hedgehog gets indigestion when it eats plums," said Ron sagely.

**End**

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this, and also to everyone who took the time to review. :) It's been fun - I've always wanted to do a crossover. Maybe I'll do it again sometime. :D


End file.
